Happily Ever After
by The Stark in the TARDIS
Summary: Because in the end, John doesn't get a happily ever after with his prince.


**BEFORE**

"What are you writing?"

"What?" John asked, startled at the sound of his husband's voice after over an hour of silence. It wasn't odd for him and Sherlock not to speak in the evenings.

Sherlock would be wrapped up in whatever he was doing, and John would sit with him, usually on his laptop as Sherlock worked. The silence was a nice change after all the chaos that comes with a five year old son.

"What are you writing? We haven't had a case in a week and you wrote the last one up two days ago," Sherlock said, not looking up from his microscope.

"I'm, well, you have to promise not to laugh," John said slowly, blushing lightly.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"Well, the other day, I was reading Hamish a story-"

"I still don't understand why you insist on reading him _stories_," Sherlock said, spitting the last word out.

"Because no matter what you say, a five year old doesn't want to learn about ionic bonds," John replied.

"When I was five-"

"Yes Sherlock, I know, you were brilliant in utero," John interrupted. "As I was saying, Hamish was a bit...unsatisfied with the traditional stories."

Sherlock gave a snort of amusement and John couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not surprised," Sherlock said.

"Yes, well, since he doesn't seem to like any of the stories I could find, I figured I could write him something."

Sherlock looked at John expectantly.

"No," John said as soon as he realized what his husband wanted. "Nope, I am not reading it to you."

"John..."

"No, you're just going to ridicule it, and-"

"I won't I promise," Sherlock whined.

"Fine," John sighed. "But no interruptions."

"Not a peep," Sherlock said with a grin. He moved so he sat beside John on the sofa, and fixed his eyes on his husband.

John cleared his throat before starting.

"Once upon a time, there lived a prince- Sherlock!"

"What?"

"Stop it!"

"But I didn't say anything," Sherlock insisted, his expression too innocent to be genuine.

"You were smiling!"

"Can't I smile? It's not my fault you make me smile John..." Sherlock said with a winning grin.

"Stop that, it won't work on me. Stop smiling like that or I won't read you what I wrote."

"Fine."

"If you want to read it, you can read it yourself," John said, passing the laptop to Sherlock.

"John, you're bring childish," Sherlock sighed.

"_I'm_ being childish?"

Sherlock didn't answer as he read the story.

"John, you used the case we solved last May!" Sherlock exclaimed,

"It was an interesting case," John reasoned.

"But you've taken out all the interesting parts," Sherlock whined.

"I took out the dead bodies and the murderer."

"Yes, and replaced them with what, an evil witch? Really John? Why are you promoting the belief of something so stupid?"

"It's a story Sherlock! And I'd rather not scar our son," John said.

"Well, it's quite dull, but I'm sure Hamish will like it," Sherlock replied, passing John the laptop before adding, "I quite liked the end."

"Did you?"

"Yes, the Prince and the Knight live happily ever after."

**AFTER**

There was a knock on John's door and the door opened a crack.

"Dad?"

"Anything wrong Hamish?" John asked, sitting up in bed and turning on the bedside lamp.

"I had a nightmare," Hamish sniffed, shuffling into the room.

"Well, come into bed" John beckoned, pulling back the sheet.

Hamish slipped under the covers, huddling close to his father.

"Want to tell me what it was about?" John asked quietly.

"I miss father," Hamish replied, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"I miss him too," John admitted, brushing back his dark curls. "What was the nightmare about?"

"It wasn't really a nightmare. It was a dream. I dreamed Dad was alive still, and when I woke up-" Hamish broke off, his voice thick with tears.

John's heart broke as his son cried, and he felt like breaking down too, but with a deep breath, he held it all in.  
"It'll be okay," John whispered as he rubbed his son's back. "We'll be okay."

As Hamish's cries softened, an idea struck John.

"Want to hear a story?"

"What's it about," Hamish asked, drying his eyes.

"It's about a Prince, whose kingdom is being threatened by an evil witch and how he defeats her with the help of a brave Knight…"

John continued the story long after Hamish's eyes had drooped closed and his breathing had evened out.

"And the Prince and the Knight lived happily ever after," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Hamish's forehead.

He slipped out of the bed, leaving the light on. He padded barefoot into the sitting room, tugging on the blue dressing gown. He sat himself in his chair, staring at the empty seat facing him. He felt the familiar burn of tears in his eyes, felt the lump in his throat close.

John could remember it, sitting here, writing the story with Sherlock teasing him for it. It seemed like it happened decades ago, as if he had been years younger. It seemed as if the world was divided into before and after. Before, when he had smiled, when he had felt whole. Before, when Hamish laughed, when they had been a family. Now they were broken, and piece of them missing and lost forever.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine what Sherlock would say now. How he'd chide him for wearing his dressing gown, how he'd hold him as he cried. And now, away from Hamish, he could cry. He felt weary and ancient, exhausted from everything, and the one person who could make it better was gone.

John choked back a sob. He had gotten skilled at crying silently. Hamish was going through enough without seeing his remaining parent break down. John would be strong for his son; he was all he had left.

Because in the end, John didn't get a happily ever after with his prince.

* * *

A/N: This was for the Johnlock Gift Exchange, the prompt was "John writes a fairy tale. It was supposed to be fluffy and happy, but it kind of morphed into an angst fest. Sorry I'm not sorry?


End file.
